in his vexation at being thus baffled, he
touched the soft substance of his silken sash, and instantly an idea
kindled at the touch. "Perhaps this will do," he thought, and hurriedly
proceeded to unwind it. It was a long sash, for it went from his shoulder
to his waist and then three times round his middle, where it was tied in
a large bow with long ends. It was at least fifteen feet long, and as
tough as any hemp that was ever twisted. He fastened one end of it
quickly round a bar in the window, and let the long crimson streamer drop
down the side of the cliff. Using this as a means of descent, it would
bring him half-way down the rock. Hanging by his arms, he would cover
much of the remaining distance, and the drop thence to the ground would
be easy. In another moment he was outside the window, and, grasping the
silk firmly in his strong fingers, began his perilous descent.

VI

THE MOAT OF CAYLUS

The descent into the moat of Caylus was rather a ticklish business, even
with the aid of an improvised rope, for the face of the cliff was, for
the most part, smooth, and afforded little in the way of foothold, but
Lagardere was a trained athlete and a man of great physical strength, one
that could use his feet with skill for purchase against the face of the
rock, and he made his way dexterously to the end of his tether. Even when
he had got thus far, and was swinging by his hands from the end of his
taut sash, he was a considerable distance from the ground. But Lagardere
let go with as light a heart as if he were a new Curtius leaping into a
new gulf; and, indeed, if he had been of a mind to make the parallel, he
would have counted his stake as great as the safety of Rome. Dropping
like a plummet, he alighted on his hands and knees on the ground. Quickly
he picked himself up, dusted the earth from his palms, and, after
carefully feeling himself all over to make sure that he was none the
worse, save for the jar of his tumble, he looked about him cautiously. It
was late evening now, and the hot day knew no cooler dusk.

As he looked up from the strange vault in which he stood, the vault that
was formed by the moat of Caylus between the rock on which the castle
rose and the rock on which the Inn of the Seven Devils was perched, he
saw above him the late evening sky painted with the strangest pageant. To
the right of the spot where the sun had declined the purple melancholy of
the heavens was broken by a blaze of g